The open yard had no roof because its largest loads would not have fit beneath one.
A broad riveted deck ran along Mercy’s rear saddle, bounded on one side by a wall of workshops and on the other by a railing above a drop to the lower freight lanes. A guide rail crossed the center. Stacked beams, winch housings, and coils of rope occupied the marked storage bays. Temporary guide ropes kept carts away from a section where the deck plates had been lifted for repair.
Neri’s crew arrived first. Dessa and Jem checked the guide while Iven helped Tavin unload the remaining braces. Elian brought the copied map showing the old route beneath the yard. Sera came with Kesh to see whether the regulator’s upper pipe could be traced from the surface. Brin carried the contract, a pencil, and a paper bag that he claimed was empty.
“It’s making a noise,” Neri said.
“The paper?”
“The bag.”
“Paper makes noise.”
“Not the sound of a sweet hitting another sweet.”
Brin opened it and offered her one. She took it without admitting that she had won.
The public guide consisted of a fixed rail and a sliding carriage with a pulley. Three crews used it to move heavy loads across the yard. Its current carriage needed new rollers and a stronger retaining clamp. Krail’s proposal would replace it with a private assembly attached to his workshop, giving his staff control of when it operated.
Neri laid her hand on the existing rail. “The board asked us to make an independent estimate. We can repair this without moving the anchor.”
“Can we improve the access?” Elian asked.
“Yes. A second release point at the west end would let a crew free a stuck load without crossing the whole yard.”
“Would that affect the passage underneath?”
“We’ll check the bolts before we drill anything.”
Sera gave her an approving look. “Thank you.”
“I’m not drilling into a mystery if I can help it.”
Iven crouched beside the carriage. One roller had a flat worn into it. The housing was sound, but the retaining clamp had been repaired with a strip of metal too thin for the load. The repair had lasted long enough to collect dirt around its edges, which did not make it good.
“Who fitted this?” he asked.
Tavin checked an old service tag. “Krail Haulage. Six months ago.”
“Do we know whether it was temporary?”
“The tag doesn’t say.”
Neri wrote the mark and date on her slate. “We don’t need to blame him for every bad repair. We need to show what the rail needs now.”
“That’s less satisfying.”
“It pays better if the board accepts our estimate.”
They measured the carriage, the rail, and the anchor points. Jem checked the deck plates for movement. Dessa inspected the winch housing at the eastern end. Elian compared the surface measurements with his map, finding a likely access panel beneath a stack of spare beams.
“Can we move these?” he asked.
“With a crew and a plan,” Tavin said.
“I have a crew.” Neri looked at the stack. “I need the plan.”
They rigged the public guide to lift the top beam. Iven inspected the thin retaining strip again before allowing weight onto the carriage. It was not suitable for a full load, but the beam could be supported from a separate hoist while they shifted it a short distance. Tavin checked the anchor. Dessa operated the hoist. Jem guided the beam clear of the stack.
The access panel appeared beneath it: a square metal cover with four bolts and a faded survey mark. Elian compared it to the map. Three bolts were visible. The fourth had been covered by a newer deck plate.
“That’s the route,” he said.
“Probably,” Neri replied. “We won’t remove the panel until the board approves the opening.”
“I’d like to know whether the regulator pipe passes beneath it.”
“So would I.”
Sera knelt beside the cover and held her hand near a seam. Warm air rose through it. She did not put her fingers inside.
“There’s a temperature difference,” she said. “That doesn’t prove there’s a pipe directly below. It gives us a reason to check.”
Kesh marked the panel’s location in her notebook. “The drainage passage comes in from this side. If the creatures use it, opening the panel might give them another route.”
“Then we’ll look before we take the cover off,” Tavin said.
A cart entered the yard from the eastern lane. It carried a new guide assembly: a polished housing, a thick clamp, and a crate of bolts wrapped in oilcloth. The Krail Haulage mark was painted on its side.
Voss Kett walked beside it. He was tall, with a close-trimmed beard and a leather guard over one forearm. The guard did not hide the outline of a graft beneath it. Two workers followed the cart, and a third carried a rolled order in a tin tube.
Kett stopped at the chalk line marking Neri’s work area. “Who gave you permission to move those beams?”
“The transport board,” Neri said. “We’re inspecting the public guide.”
“I have an order to replace it.”
“Then show me.”
The man with the tin tube unrolled the paper. Kett held it out. Neri read it, then passed it to Tavin. The order authorized Krail Haulage to deliver a replacement assembly and prepare an installation estimate. It did not authorize removal of the existing guide or seizure of the access panel.
“This says you can bring it,” Neri said. “It doesn’t say you can install it.”
“The board will approve the installation.”
“When it does, we’ll read that order.”
Kett’s gaze moved to the lifted beam and the exposed panel. “You’re interfering with the preparation.”
“We’re preparing our own estimate.”
“For a guide that’s already failed.”
“It hasn’t failed. Its roller is worn and its retaining strip is undersized.”
“Which is why we’re replacing it.”
“Replacing the whole guide gives Krail control of a public rail.”
“Control means someone is responsible when it breaks.”
Tavin stepped forward. “The transport board is responsible. My crews use that rail.”
“And your crews nearly dropped a cage.”
The words landed in the yard. Several workers had paused at the edges to listen. Tavin did not raise his voice.
“My crew stopped the cage. The pin was below specification. We have the test record.”
“Krail disputes it.”
“He can dispute it at the board.”
Kett looked at Iven. “You were there.”
“Yes.”
“You also went into a loading house without permission.”
“I did.”
“And destroyed a trolley.”
“It was already missing a brake pin.”
“Convenient.”
“Not especially.”
Kett’s mouth tightened. He did not strike Iven or reach for a weapon. He looked at the guide carriage instead.
“The retaining clamp belongs to Krail Haulage,” he said. “Remove it and return it. We’ll leave our replacement here.”
Neri shook her head. “The clamp is part of the public guide. Your company was paid to fit it.”
“It remains our equipment until the board accepts the work.”
“The board accepted the invoice six months ago.”
“The invoice isn’t acceptance of the component.”
“Then bring the contract.”
Kett held up the delivery order. “This is the order I have.”
“It doesn’t name the old clamp.”
The workers along the yard edge began talking among themselves. Some belonged to Krail’s crew. Others used the public guide and had come to see whether it would remain available. Tavin asked them to keep the lane clear. No one left.
Kett stepped across the chalk line. Dessa moved to the carriage, placing herself between him and the clamp. Jem set down the timber he had been carrying. Neri stood beside them, her slate under one arm.
“Don’t touch the guide,” she said.
“I’ve been sent to recover company property.”
“Then come back with an order that identifies it.”
Kett looked at the gathered workers. “Your crew has accused Krail of supplying unsafe parts. You’ve stopped our work, taken records, and put our name on a public test. Now you want the board to give you his contract.”
“We want the guide safe and public.”
“Then prove your crew can keep it safe.”
Neri’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
Kett took off the leather guard on his forearm. A graft lay beneath, its lines visible against his skin. “A challenge. Your chosen restorer against me, here where the people who use this yard can see. If I win, your crew withdraws its claim on the guide and returns the clamp. If your fighter wins, Krail leaves the guide untouched until the board decides.”
Tavin stared at him. “A fight doesn’t settle a contract.”
“No,” Kett said. “But it can settle whether your crew intends to stand behind what it says.”
Neri looked at the order again. “The board decides the contract. I won’t sign away a public guide because you can hit someone.”
Kett waited. The workers were listening more closely now. He had made the challenge public, and refusing it would not make his claim disappear. Accepting his terms would give him authority he did not have.
Iven stepped beside Neri. “What if we change the terms?”
Kett looked at him. “Go on.”
“No one signs away the guide. If you lose, you and your crew leave the existing equipment alone until the board rules. If I lose, we leave the yard for the day, and the board still rules.”
“You don’t get to dictate my order.”
“Your order lets you deliver an assembly. It doesn’t let you take the old one. I’m offering you a way to leave without trying.”
Kett considered him. “And if I don’t accept?”
“Then you can wait for the board like the rest of us.”
Neri touched Iven’s sleeve. “You don’t have to do this for my crew.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
She studied him for a moment, then turned to Kett. “No equipment is damaged deliberately. No one fights near the access panel. The workers stay outside the chalk line.”
Kett glanced at the deck. “The railings stay in place?”
“Yes.”
“Agreed.”
Tavin objected again, but he began moving the nearest carts out of the way. Dessa gathered the loose tools. Jem rolled the guide rope back from the open deck plates and fixed a second rope across the danger area. Elian offered to fetch Jora. Kett said there was no need for a guard. Neri told Elian to fetch her anyway.
Sera checked Iven’s ankle. “Can you move on it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you stop moving on it if it hurts?”
“I can.”
“Will you?”
“I’ll try to make the fight unnecessary before it gets that far.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
He gave her a more honest answer. “I won’t use it if I can’t control the landing.”
She accepted that with visible reluctance.
Kett tested the deck with one boot, then fastened the leather guard back over his graft. He carried a short metal bar with a loop at one end, useful for rigging as well as fighting. He set it on the deck inside the chalk line rather than hiding it.
“I’ll use that,” he said.
Iven checked his own tools. His spanner and hammer remained in his coat. The brass hook inside his right cuff caught briefly on the lining; he freed it and left it where it belonged. His graft was charged from rest. He could seat three patterns at once. Plate and piston were familiar choices. The third would depend on what Kett did with the space.
Workers formed a loose ring beyond the ropes. They kept the access panel clear. Neri stood with Dessa and Jem near the public guide. Tavin held the written order. Sera and Kesh waited beside the cleared cart, where they could reach either fighter without crossing the rail. Elian returned with Jora, who read the order and looked displeased at the gathering.
“This settles no property claim,” she said loudly.
“It settles whether they leave the equipment alone today,” Iven replied.
Jora looked at Kett. “Is that your understanding?”
“Yes.”
“And the board’s decision remains in force whatever happens?”
“Yes.”
She stationed two guards at the edge of the crowd. “Then keep the landing clear.”
Kett stepped into the open space. The wind caught the edge of his coat. Below the railing, a freight cart rattled along the lower lane, unaware of the people gathering above it.
He lifted the short bar. “Ready, Marr?”
Iven seated the plate pattern, then the piston. He left the third channel open for one breath while he measured the rail, the stacked beams, and the distance between them. Kett watched him with the patience of someone who knew a choice made before a fight could matter as much as the first blow.
“Ready,” Iven said.